The Silence and the Fury
by Agent Twinkle Toes
Summary: Let me take you deep into the world of Blair Cornelia Waldorf. One girl. One boy. One lifetime. B/Ca
1. Prologue

**A/N:** This is my first story, so please go easy on me. I've been reading fanfic for over two years, but I know have a deeper respect for authors after my first attempt at writing a fic. Review and tell me if you think that this is worth continuing.

She stains her lips with YSL's Red Temptation, arranging her features into a cold, hard mask. Waldorfs never show weakness. Sliding on her shiny new red Louboutins, she sucks in a deep breath and marches out to face the world. Passing by an elevator, she catches a glimpse of herself; she quickly looks away. The lack of a trademark headbands only serves to remind herself of the old Blair that has withered away. People say that adversity makes one stronger, but she feels like crying in her father's lap. Her eyes start to water, thinking about the disappointment that was reflected in her father's eyes. She looks up and clenches her fists, clamping down on her emotions with an iron fist. Waldorfs never show weakness.

She briskly marches out into the cold world, head tilted forward and facing the world full on. She follows invisible footprints, walking against the breezy New York wind and heading for her newfound haven. Walking up scuffed steps into the rugged apartment, she strides down the sparse, yet refined hallway. However, when she knocks on the door, the silence is deafening.

Looking down at her shoes and twisting her heel gracefully—Waldorfs are never awkward—she notices a slightly bent corner of an off-white envelope. Glancing around the deserted hallway, she bends down and picks up the envelope. The thick, creamy paper feels like heaven under her fingertips, and while stroking the fine texture of the paper, she notices the word "Blair" scrawled hastily onto it.

Somehow, her legs feel like they're about to give way, and she slides down onto the floor and rests her head against the wall. With a sense of trepidation, she stretches her fingers towards the fallen envelope. She pulls out a sheaf of papers, recognizing the messy scrawl, and looks away. Waldorfs never show weakness, but there is no one here to watch, so she allows a single tear to slide down her face.


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N:** By the way, if you haven't figured it out, this story is going to be AU. I'm tweaking with the time line and setting A LOT.

_Three months ago_

Blair strolled down the sunny, wide avenue with classic wayfarers perched on her nose. She loved the warmth of the friendly French sun on her face and reveled in her anonymity. There was no Gossip Girl watching over her every move here in Nice, no judgmental glares from the smiling strangers; everyone merely smiled pleasantly at each other.

Strolling along the crooked stone pavement—practically skipping in her bright yellow Tory Burch flats—Blair headed towards her favorite café in anticipation of those lovely éclairs. She felt so free, so unrestrained, that she twirled around, wanting to see her yellow dress with white polka dots flare out like the sun. However, fate was not on her side as she crashed into a stranger in a leather jackets; Blair watched in horror as the contents of her Birkin bag tumbled out onto the cobbled pavement.

Kneeling on the ground and scraping her knees against the rough stone streets, Blair helplessly groped around for the spilled contents of her purse. As she reached for her trademark tube of YSL Red Temptation lipstick, her hand brushed against the rough fingers of the stranger. Startled, she looked up and saw a familiar smirk gracing a familiar face. Her brief sojourn into anonymity was over; she felt the newfound carefree Blair hardening into the world weary Blair Waldorf.

Blair looked into familiar blue eyes, only—did he always have faint specks of gold and green in his retinas? Feeling a bit faint, Blair blinked for a second and regained control of her mental faculties. Raising one eyebrow, she said, "I guess charm school didn't do much to help your grace. What a waste."

"It's not everyday that Blair Waldorf comes crashing into me," retorted Carter Baizen, smirking all the while. "I should have expected that you'd be so overcome with desire for me that you would tackle me to the ground. Don't feel bad; you're not the only one who wants me that badly."

Blair gasped with indignation, scooped her phone off the ground, and spun on her heel, intending to march away. Of course something like this would happen when she tried to have fun. After she took a step, she felt warm fingers wrap themselves around her wrist. She glanced back, and saw Carter with what appeared to be a somewhat apologetic expression on his face. His smirk, still there, gave him away though. Blair's fingers itched to slap that stupid smirk off his face. He had no right to look that attractive while laughing at her.

Carter opened his mouth and asked, "how about I treat you to a coffee to make up for knocking you over?"

"I thought I'd jumped you in my unrestrained desire for your body," Blair replied a bit sourly.

"I'll even buy you a chocolate éclair," he answered.

Blair turned around and made her final mistake; she glanced into his eyes. The oceanic depths drew her in, and she felt lightheaded. Somehow, she heard herself saying yes.


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N:** I would like to thank all my reviewers for their encouraging reviews—you don't know how much it means to me. I'm still trying to get the hang of this whole writing thing, but bear with me and maybe we'll get something amazing, yeah?

As they zoomed down the boulevard, wind whipping through her hair, Blair had never felt freer. She felt like Audrey Hepburn on the back of Gregory Peck's motorcycle in _Roman Holiday_—except they're in France and he's even more old money than she is (even if he had spent the past few years backpacking like a commoner from continent to continent.)

She briefly considers doing something spontaneous, maybe cutting off her hair. But there's no Trevi Fountain and no barbershop facing Trevi Fountain, and the thought of chopping off her trademark chocolate locks makes her feel queasy. Maybe if she were braver, more spontaneous like her golden Amazonian friend, she wouldn't hesitate at all, but she's not. She's Blair Waldorf, and rash decisions were strangers to her (except for the unspeakable limo sex and the riding of a motorcycle with _Carter Baizen_.)

Blair hated to admit it, but she was wrong. Completely and utterly wrong. She had expected Carter to be like the rest of the Upper East Side, but he was so…different. At first glance, one would expect him to be dark and broody, but he has been all laughter and playful smirks over the past two days. But, then again, it could just be the change of setting. Blair knows that she would never dare to act this way back home.

With her arms wrapped tightly around Carter's waist, Blair tilts her head back and laughs, the sound of her laughter ringing in the air. People on the streets turn and stare at the picturesque couple and wonder if the mysterious brunettes in sunglasses and clothed in expensive attire are of the rich and famous.

Resting her head on his shoulder, Blair feels content for the first time in weeks, maybe even months. She lets out a faint sigh, and Carter briefly glances back at her and smirks, as if he knows what she's thinking. Blair playfully slaps his arm, trying not to linger on the lean musculature of his body. Feeling her cheeks become warm, she distracts herself by looking at the passing scenery and admiring the quaint French architecture. Some buildings are so very old world, and Blair thinks that she wouldn't mind living in one of those charming villas.

She's startled as the motorcycle suddenly stops, seeing the distinct red of the Musée Matisse a few meters away. Blair marvels at the difference between the quaint air of the Musée Matisse and the looming, imposing, grey structure of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Lost in thought, she stumbles slightly as Carter tugs on her hand and leads her into the museum, where they stand silently for hours, staring at the impressive works of art. Blair wonders if Chuck or Nate would ever step foot into a museum—Nate would probably be too busy with his head high in the clouds, while Chuck would rather admire the museum tour guide than the art itself.

Thoughts heading back towards art, Blair wonders what would happen if she stepped into _Tempete a Nice_ and lost herself in that boulevard of leafy trees. She imagines strolling down that boulevard while Carter holds that black umbrella, and thinks to herself, that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't be so bad.


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Another update for my lovely readers; I'm a bit hesitant about this one though. And I feel like my style of writing is changing from chapter to chapter… there's a reason why I've never ventured into the realm of creative writing before—essays I can write brilliantly, but tell me to write a short story or a poem, and I'm stuck. Hopefully that will change with time though; feedback in reviews would help a lot.

Blair paced nervously around her room, heart thumping noisily against her chest as if it were trying to escape the tight confines of her ribcage. She spun around and strode towards her walk-in closet, deciding to find an acceptable outfit for this evening. She rifled through the endless rows of hangers, looking for some paradoxical outfit—conservative yet daring. After all, it wouldn't be fitting to wear something risqué in front of her father and his gay lover. But then again, when was the last time she had worn anything that was the slightest bit risqué? A flash of red on ivory caught her eye, and she pulled out her new Fendi Strapless Rose Dress. Blair had been looking for an opportunity to wear this utterly feminine creation, with roses blooming on the front, and what better opportunity to wear this than at a dinner with her father, gay lover, and friend?

Pairing the dress off with a pair of understated Madame Claude d'Orsay red Louboutin pumps, she felt kind of _Pretty in Red_. She was definitely better than those high school brat pack amateurs though. As Blair painstakingly applied her makeup, matching the shade of her lipstick to the shade of her shoes, she wondered why she was even going to all this effort. It wasn't like Carter was her boyfriend or anything; they were merely good friends. Friends with sexual tension were completely normal, right? It wasn't out of the norm for her to feel her heart speeding up as he lightly touched her hand, shoulder, or waist. So there was no reason to be nervous about this dinner between family and friends. There was a reason why Blair was the Queen (of self delusion—hadn't she stayed with Nate for years when it was obvious that he just wasn't that into her?)

Blair heard a faint tapping sound on her door. Thinking it was her father or Roman, she told him to enter. She sat on her bed, trying to finish fastening her strand of pearls, but she was having some trouble with the clasp. But then, she felt masculine fingers pry the clasp from her fingers and masterfully fasten it for her. Blair turned around to thank her father for his timely aid, but was met with a hard stomach—definitely not her father. Her father, though still handsome, had succumbed to the hardships of middle age. Gulping silently, her eyes traveled up the fine Italian cotton shirt and skimmed over a strong jaw line, past a familiar smirk, and were met with a smiling pair of blue eyes.

Of course it had to be Carter; wasn't fate just incredibly funny? She blushed prettily and asked, "Aren't you a bit early?"

"No, not really. I think you just lost track of time when you were dressing," Carter replied easily. "And a gentleman is always either early or on time—never late."

"You? A gentleman?" Blair scoffed. "A gentleman wouldn't just waltz into a lady's room without permission; it's just not seemly."

"You seem to have forgotten that you told me to come in."

Exasperatedly, Blair exclaimed, "I thought you were my father!"

Waving his hand breezily, Carter replied, "You know what they say when people assume. Anyways, I was going to escort you down to dinner. After all, we have to make a good impression on your father," he said playfully.

Blair felt her breath hitch in her throat. Nate and Chuck would have never offered to escort her anywhere without instructions, let alone to dinner with her father. She feels as if she's being a bit unfair to Carter though, with these constant comparisons to Nate and Chuck. Carter's his own person, and she shouldn't be measuring him up against ghosts of her past.

She feels herself place her hand delicately into the crook of his arm, and they make their way down the grand staircase of Chateau Waldorf. As Carter gently places a hand on her waist, guiding her down the staircase, she can almost imagine that she is going to introduce her boyfriend to her father.


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Thanks for all the lovely reviews, as always. I'm not completely satisfied with this chapter, but I don't want to keep you all waiting, so here it is! Writing sure is tiring…how do you all manage to write five thousand word chapters? Ah, I guess I'll keep it short and sweet for now.

Blair calmly strolled down the Rue de France with her hand grasping the arm of a protesting Carter Baizen, dragging him along. She glanced at the arranged window displays, admiring a particularly fine item every now and then.

"I don't get why we're even on this tacky street. You do know that all these shops are here for tourists, right?" grumbled Carter.

Sarcastically, Blair replied, "Sorry, but I don't enjoy knocking elbows with the natives."

Carter sighed and shook his head resignedly; obviously, there wasn't much he could do to change Blair's mind. While Blair was distracted, looking at an extravagant ancient necklace, encrusted with diamonds and probably platinum, by the looks of it, he pried her fingers off his arm and, instead, casually draped his arm across her shoulders.

Blair was rhapsodizing over the necklace and glorifying its classic design, when, all of a sudden, she felt a weight on her shoulders. As her cheeks began to heat up once more, she silently cursed her body's reaction to simple, friendly gestures from Carter. She tried to distract herself by looking back at the necklace, trying to lose herself in the dazzling depths of the diamonds—after all, diamonds are a girl's best friend—but she couldn't force the heat in her cheeks to disappear.

Frantically glancing around, her eyes landed on a quaint chocolate shop. Smiling nervously at Carter, she said, "I'm suddenly craving an éclair. Wait for me?"

Carter merely nodded and simply said, "Of course." As he watched Blair quickly walk to the chocolate shop, he turned back to the window display with a pensive expression on his face. Subtly glancing back, he saw Blair gleefully perusing the rows of delicacies. He would have enough time.

Blair walked out of the store while nibbling on a chocolate éclair. She scanned the street for Carter, but he was no where to be seen. Feeling a bit put out, she walked angrily to a bench and sat down, pulling out her phone. Just as she was about to hit speed dial 3 (How and when did he get so high up on her speed dial list? Number one was her mother, two was Serena…), she felt a tap on her shoulder. Whipping her head around, she felt a chiseled stomach against her face.

Hearing laughter, her eyes traveled up the now familiar path and were met with Carter's amused eyes. "Now isn't this familiar," he laughed.

Blair felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her, and she wondered how she always managed to get herself into these situations. She was usually so poised and collected, never flustered around anyone else.

She half heartedly mumbled some sort of a retort, grasped the proffered hand, and felt herself be pulled up. Dusting off her flowered skirt, Blair set off in the opposite direction. As she looked back to see if he was following, her heel caught on a crack in the rough cobblestone street, and she felt herself falling. Bracing herself for a hard impact, she suddenly felt warm arms wrap around her. Even as she was suspended in mid-fall, she had never felt safer than she did that instant—in Carter's arms.


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N:** I'm back! I've finally finished with my 7 AP exams and my SAT II, so I'll be updating more often. I'm still playing around with the timeline, trying to figure out how I want things. I wanted to get a chapter out today, so this was written pretty quickly—tell me if you see any mistakes or such. Thank you to all my lovely reviewers for all of their encouraging reviews. Reviews make my day and give me incentive to write faster—review please! =)

Carter sat on Blair's bed, silently watching as she gently folded up yet another blouse and placed it in her custom made Louis Vuitton suitcase. She was pouting in the most adorable manner as she packed her belongings in preparation for her trip to Paris. Eleanor was opening up another shop in Paris, and she insisted on Blair coming over for the grand opening. Lying on his back, he patted the empty space next to him, motioning for Blair to come over. Reluctantly, she put down the dress she was holding and made her way over to his side. Carter turned on his side, propped his head on his arm, and looked at her—_really_ looked at her. She looked so forlorn, probably thinking that they would never share another éclair, never ride together on his motorbike, never stroll down the street with his arm casually draped over her shoulders again. After all, Carter was known for his exotic travels and the prodigal son was not known for frequenting the Upper East Side that often.

"So," he began. "I might have forgotten to tell you about a change in plans. It seems like my calendar has opened up, so if you have no objections, I can accompany you to Paris and be your escort for the opening gala."

Blair stared at him, completely flabbergasted, but quickly composed herself because Blair Waldorf does not get flustered. Ever.

She glared at him. "Do you mean to tell me that you've been watching me worry about losing our…friendship….for the past few days and never bothered to tell me that you're coming with me?"

"Well, your cheeks redden in the most delightful way when you get angry," Carter answered teasingly. "And you should be thanking me. After all, I know that you hate flying commercial, and guess who just secured the Baizen jet for the next few days?"

Blair gasped. "Are you serious? And your father agreed?"

"Well, it wasn't very hard to convince him to lend me the jet after I let your name slip. I think he thinks that you're a good influence on me," he replied, smirking.

Also smirking, Blair responded haughtily, "I'm Blair Waldorf." As soon as she said those three words, she suddenly pictured another dark haired boy that was originally going to be her date to her mother's shop's opening gala. However, he was a world away and didn't want her. Just as well, she didn't want him either. (She told herself to keep on believing that, but it seemed like it was becoming truer with each passing day.)

Chuckling, Carter said, "That you are." He reached out and pulled her into his arms. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to do so, lying on Blair's bed with her in his arms. It was only a friendly embrace though, he told himself. After all, Blair was still in high school and he shouldn't—he quickly stopped himself from continuing down that train of thought. Blair shifted a bit, placing her head on his shoulder and tangled her legs with his. This felt extremely intimate, more intimate than any of his previous sexual exploits. And he was only lying with a female friend—a very attractive female friend.

Hours later, Harold would walk into Blair's room, searching for Cat, and stop in his tracks. He saw Carter, arms encircled around Blair, as they were both sleeping. After feeling a rush of anger at seeing a boy on Blair's bed, he quickly calmed down. In any case, Carter Baizen was preferable to good for nothing boys like Chuck Bass and Nate Archibald. He obviously cared deeply for his daughter, and he trusted that Carter wouldn't carelessly break her heart like the two aforementioned boys had done. He walked over and draped a light blanket over the two slumbering forms and exited the room. Harold didn't fully close the door though—just in case.


	7. Quick Question

Quick question for my readers: how many of you would mind if I upped the rating to M? Just wondering because I'm coming up with ideas for the next chapter...it should be out within the next week.


	8. Chapter 6

**A/N: So I know this chapter is really short (but then again, all my chapters are short. I'm working on making them longer, I promise, but for now I remain a drabble writer), but I will be updating again in the next few days with the gala chapter. If anyone has a specific dress, pair of shoes, or even a piece of jewelry she (or he to be politically correct…but I'm pretty sure it's all girls) wants to see on Blair, just suggest it in a review or message me, and I'll consider using it. Oh, and by the way, if anyone has a better story summary for me, I'd appreciate it.  
**

Sunlight streamed into Blair's room through the silk curtains, and individual rays of light danced on her chocolate curls. Carter thought some strands of her hair almost looked gold in the sunlight—golden hair, the root of his problems. If only he hadn't, if only they hadn't, if only Santorini hadn't happened, he wouldn't have anything to hold him back from touching the delicate creature in front of him. He would be able to hold her heart in his hands and glue all the pieces back together.

However, Carter felt his thoughts straying down a dirtier path as Blair shifted in her sleep, entangling their legs further and brushing her thigh up against him. It took all of his self control to refrain from…he had to stop that train of thought immediately before he became more aroused. After all, he had to do this properly.

--

A few hours later, Blair drifted into consciousness, feeling warm and content. She stretched, pressing herself against a hard body…her mind started working furiously in its drowsy state to process this unexpected development. After a moment, she realized that all she had to do was open her eyes. Tentatively opening her eyes, she saw Carter's shit eating grin; "If you keep pressing yourself against me Princess, I won't be held responsible for anything that follows."

Blushing, Blair realized that in her sleep, she had practically wrapped her legs around him. Trying to inconspicuously change this awkward position to avoid more teasing and embarrassment, Blair subtly untangled herself from him. Carter caught on to what she was doing though and smirked at her. Holding in a sigh (after all, boys with pretty eyes and charming smirks were her weakness—Exhibit A: Nate Archibald. Exhibit B: Chuck Bass. And the two boys only had one or the other; Blair had never been faced with both weapons at the same time), Blair moved to get up and get dressed for the day.

--

Looking in the mirror, Blair wasn't sure what to think about this girl she became when she was around Carter. She became so carefree and playful, and she was even awkward at times. This was nothing like the icy cold and poised exterior she maintained as per Queen B. She felt slightly out of control, and she liked it.

She glanced back at Carter for a second, feeling herself smile instinctively, and decided to go along with her new self. Who ever said that a queen can't change her headband?


End file.
